Mark Z Danielewski

by House Of Leaves (pdf)

  43Nag and Nagaina were the names of the two cobras in Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book. Eventually both were defeated by the mongoose Rikki- Tikki-Tavi.

  Link"^Fred de Stabenrath purportedly exclaimed this right before he was ki [xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxpart missingxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx]45

  [28]David Eric Katz argues for a third: the epistemological one. Of course, the implication that the current categories of myth and science ignore the reverberation of knowledge itself is not true. Katz's treatment of repetition, however, is still highly rewarding. His list of examples in Table iii are particularly impressive. See The Third Beside You: An Analysis of the Epistemological Echo by David Eric Katz (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982). © Adonta ta . . . = "Her still singing limbs."47

  [29]Ivan Largo Stilets, Greek Mythology Again (Boston: Biloquist Press, 1995), p. 343-497; as well as Ovid's Metamorphoses, III. 356-410.

  [30]John Milton's Paradise Lost, IX, 653-54.

  [30]Hanson Edwin Rose, Creationist Myths (Detroit, Michigan: Pneuma Publications, 1989), p. 219.

  [31]These lines have a familiar ring though I've no clue why or where I've heard them before.58

  [32]William Wordsworth, The Poems Of William Wordsworth, ed. Nowell Charles Smith, M.A. vol. I. (London: Methuen and Co., 1908), p. 395. Also of some interest is Alice May Williams letter to the observers at Mount Wilson (CAT. #0005) in which she writes: "I beleive that sky opens closes on certain periods. When you see all that cloud covering the sky right up, over. Those clouds are called. Blinds, shutters, verandahs. Somtimes that sky opens underneath." See No One May Ever Have The Same Knowledge Again: Letters to Mount Wilson Observatory 1915-1935, edited and transcribed by Sarah Simons (West Covina, California: Society For the Diffusion of Useful Information Press, 1993), p. 11.

  Linka,See D. R. Griffin, Listening in the Dark (1986).

  [34]King Lear, IV. vi, 147.

  [35]Further attention should probably be given to sabins and Transmission Loss as described by TL = 10 log 1/ T dB, where T= a transmission coefficient and a high TL indicates a high sound insulation. Unfortunately, one could write several lengthy books on sound alone in The Navidson Record. Oddly enough, with the sole exception of Kellog Pequity's article on acoustic impedance in Navidson's house (Science, April 1995, p. 43), nothing else has been rendered on this particularly resonant topic. On the subject of acoustic coefficience, however, see Ned Noi's "Echo's Verse" in Science News, v. 143, February 6, 1993, p. 85.

  Link^Parallel surfaces will create a flutter echo, though frequently a splay of as little as 16mm (5/8 inch) can prevent the multiple repetitions.

  [37]Yesterday I managed to get Maus Fife-Harris on the phone. She's a UC Irvine PhD candidate in Comp Lit who apparently always objected to the large chunks of narrative Zampano kept asking her to write down. "I told him all those passages were inappropriate for a critical work, and if he were in my class I'd mark him down for it. But he'd just chuckle and continue. It bothered me a little but the guy wasn't my student and he was blind and old, so why should I care? Still, I did care, so I'd always protest when he asked me to write down a new bit of narrative. 'Why won't you listen to me?' I demanded one time. 'You're writing like a freshman.' And he replied—I remember this very distinctly: 'We always look for doctors but sometimes we're lucky to find a frosh.' And then he chuckled again and pressed on." Not a bad way to respond to this whole fucking book, if you ask me.

  [38]There's a problem here concerning the location of "The Five and a Half Minute Hallway." Initially the doorway was supposed to be on the north wall of the living room (page 4), but now, as you can see for yourself, that position has changed. Maybe it's a mistake. Maybe there's some underlying logic to the shift. Fuck if I know. Your guess is as good as mine.

  [38]Fortunately a few years before The Navidson Record was made Karen took part in a study which promised to evaluate and possibly treat her fear. After the film became something of a phenomenon, those results surfaced and were eventually published in a number of periodicals. The Anomic Mag based out of Berkeley (v. 87, n. 7, April, 1995) offered the most comprehensive account of that study as it pertained to Karen Green:

  . . . Subject #0027-00-8785 (Karen Green) suffers severe panic attacks when confronting dark, enclosed spaces, usually windowless and unknown (e.g. a dark room in an unfamiliar building). The attacks are consistently characterized by (1) accelerated heart rate (2) sweating (3) trembling (4) sensation of suffocation (5) feeling of choking (6) chest pain (7) severe dizziness (8) derealization (feelings of unreality) and eventual depersonalization (being detached from oneself) (9) culmination in an intense fear of dying. See DSM-IV "Criteria for Panic Attack." . . . Diagnosis—subject suffers from Specific Phobia (formally known as Simple Phobia); Situational type. See DSM-IV "Diagnostic criteria for 300.29 Specific Phobia." ... Because behavioral-cognitive techniques have thus far failed to modify perspectives on anxiety-provoking stimuli, subject was considered ideal for current pharmacotherapy study . . . Initially subject received between 100-200 mg/ day of Tofranil (Imipramine) but with no improvement switched early on to a B-adrenergic blocker (Propranolol). An increase in vivid nightmares caused her to switch again to the MAOI (Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitor) Tranylcypromine. Still dissatisfied with the results, subject switched to the SSRI (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor) Fluoxetine, commonly known as Prozac. Subject responded well and soon showed increased tolerance when intentionally exposed to enclosed, dark spaces. Unfortunately moderate weight gain and orgasmic dysfunction caused the subject to drop out of the study . . . Subject apparently relies now on her own phobia avoidance mechanisms, choosing to stay clear of enclosed, unknown spaces (i.e. elevators, basements, unfamiliar closets etc., etc.), though occasionally when attacks become "more frequent" ... she returns to Prozac for short periods of time . . . See David Kahn's article "Simple Phobias: The Failure of Pharmacological Intervention"; also see subject's results on Sheehan Clinician Rated Anxiety Scale as well as Sheehan Phobia Scale.70

  While the report seems fairly comprehensive, there is admittedly one point which remains utterly perplexing. Other publications repeat verbatim the ambiguous phrasing but still fail to shed light on the exact meaning of those six words: "occasionally when attacks become 'more frequent.' " At least the implication seems clear, vicissitudes in Karen's life, whatever those may be, affect her sensitivity to space. In her article "Significant (OT)Her" published in The Psychology Quarterly (v. 142, n. 17, December 1995, p. 453) Celine Berezin, M.D. observes that "Karen's attacks, which I suspect stem from early adolescent betrayal, increase proportionally with the level of intimacy—or even the threat of potential intimacy—she experiences whether with Will Navidson or even her children."

  Also see Steve Sokol and Julia Carter's Women Who Can't Love: When a Woman's Fear Makes Her Run from Commitment and What a Smart Man Can Do About It (New Hampshire: T. Devans and Company, 1978).

  [39]Bazine Naodook's The Bad Bodhi Wall (Marina Del Rey: Bix Oikofoe Publishing House, 1995), p. 91.

  [39]See Lewis Marsano's "Tom's 1865 Shelter" in This Old House, September/October 1995, p. 87. ' Nor does it seem to help that Navidson and Karen both have among their books Erica Jong's Fear of Flying (New York: Holt, Rinehart Winston, 1973), Anne Hooper's The Ultimate Sex Book : A Therapist's Guide to the Programs and Techniques That Will Enhance Your Relationship and Transform Your Life (DK Publishing, 1992), X.Y.'s Broken Daisy-Chains (Seattle: Town Over All Press, 1989), Chris Allen's 1001 Sex Secrets Every Man Should Know (New York: Avon Books, 1995) as well as Chris Allen's 1001 Sex Secrets Every Woman Should Know (New York: Avon Books, 1995).

  [40]Zampano provided the blanks but never filled them in.

  [41]Bernard Porch's Al
l In All (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995), p. 1,302.

  [42] Mary Widmunt's "The Echo of Dark" in Gotta Go (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1994), p. 59.

  [43]Strange how Zampano also fails to comment on the inability of animals to wander those corridors. I believe there's a great deal of significance in this discovery. Unfortunately, Zampano never returns to the matter and while I would like to offer you my own interpretation I am a little high and alot drunk, trying to determine what set me off in the first place on this private little home-bound binge.

  For one thing, Thumper came into the Shop today.

  Ever since I fell down the stairs, things have changed there. My boss kind of tiptoes around me, playing all low key and far off, his demeanor probably matching his old junkie days. Even his friends keep their distance, everyone for the most part just leaving me alone to sketch and solder, though I'm sketching far less these days, I mean, with all this writing. Anyway, Thumper's actually been by a few times but my incomprehensible shyness persists, forbidding me to ever summon up more than an occasional intelligible sentence. Recently though I did get this crazy idea: I decided to go out on a limb and show her that sappy little bit I wrote about her—you know with all that coastal norths and August-sun scent-of-pine-trees stuff, even the Lucy part. I just put it in an envelope and carried it around with me until she dropped by and then handed it to her without a word.

  I don't know what I expected, but she opened it right on the spot and read it and then laughed and then my boss grabbed it and he sort of winced—"Now look who's the dumb mutant" he shuddered—and that was that. Thumper handed me her flip flops and Adidas sweat pants and stretched out on the chair. I felt like such an idiot. Lude had warned me I'd be certifiable if I showed it to her. Maybe I am. I actually believed it would touch her in some absurd way. But to hear her laugh like that really fucked me up. I should of stayed away from such flights of fancy, stuck to my regular made-up stories.

  I did my best to hide in the back, though I was too scared to go too far back because of the storeroom.

  Then right before she left, Thumper came over and handed me her

  card.

  "Call me some time," she said with a wink. "You're cute."

  My life instantly changed.

  I thought.

  I told Lude. He told me to call her at once.

  I waited.

  Then I re-considered, then I postponed.

  Finally, at exactly twenty-two past three in the morning, I dialed. It was a beeper. I punched in my number.

  [44]See Aramis Garcia Pineda's "More Than Meets The Eye" in Field and Stream, v. 100, January 1996, d. 39-47.

  [45]Leezei Brant's "Billy Reston's Friends For Life" in Backpacker, v. 23, February 1995, p. 7.

  [46]See Exhibit Four for the complete transcript of The Reston Interview.

  ^Gabriel Reller in his book Beyond The Grasp of Commercial Media (Athens, Ohio: Ohio University

  Press, 1995) suggests that the appearance of the first short entitled "The Five and a Half Minute Hallway"

  originated here: "Holloway probably copied the tape, gave it to a couple of friends, who in turn passed it

  along to others. Eventually it found its way to the academic set" (p. 252).

  [47]See also Susan Wright's "Leeder of the Pack" in Outdoor Life, v. 195, June 1995, p. 28.

  [48]Bentley Harper's "Hook, Line and Sinker" in Sierra, v. 81, July/August 1996, p. 42.

  [49]See Newt Kuellster's 'The Five and a Half Minute Holloway" in The Holloway Question (San Francisco: Metalambino Inc., 1996), p. 532; as well as Tiffany Baiter's "Gone Away" in People, v. 43, May 15, 1995, p. 89.

  [50]See Chapter XIII.

  Link^'Refer to footnotes 19 and 20 concerning Karen's infidelities. Perhaps it also should be noted here that for all his wanderings Navidson was pointedly not promiscuous. Good looks, intelligence, and fame did not combine to create an adulterous lifestyle. Iona Panofsky in "Saints, Sinners, and Photojournalists" Fortune, v. Ill, March 18, 1985, p. 20, attributes Navidson's genius to his "monk-like existence." However, Australian native, Ryan Murray in his book Wilder Ways (Sydney: Outback Works, 1996) calls Navidson's monastic habits "a sure sign of unresolved oedipal anxieties, repressed homosexuality, and a disturbed sense of self. Considering the time he spent away from home coupled with the kind of offers he got from the most exotic and tantalizing women (not even including those from his numerous female assistants), his refusal proves a nauseating absence of character. Make no mistake about it: over here his kind enter a bar with a smile and leave with a barstool for a hat." An odd thing to say considering Navidson drank freely in every Australian bar he ever visited and on the one occasion when he was attacked by two drunks, purportedly angry over all the attention the waitresses were lavishing on him, both inebriates left bruised and bleeding. (The Wall Street Journal. March 29, 1985, p. 31, column 3.)

  [52]Consider Bingham Arzumanian's "Stranger in a Hall" Journal of Psychoanalysis, v.14 April 12, 1996, p. 142; Yvonne Hunsucker's "Counseling, Relief, and Introjection" Medicine, v.2 July 18, 1996, p. 56; Curtis Melchor's "The Surgical Hand" Internal Medicine, v.8 September 30, 1996, p. 93; and Elfor O'Halloran's "Invasive Cures" Homeopathic Alternatives, October 31, 1996, p. 28.

  [53]See Jeffrey Neblett's "The Illusion of Intimacy and Depth" Ladies' Home Journal, v. Ill, January 1994, p. 90-93.

  [54]Fannie Lamkins' "Eleven Minute Shrink," KLAT, Buffalo, New York, June 24, 1994.

  [55]Planet Earth: Underground Worlds by Donald Dale Jackson and The Editors of Time-Life Books (Alexandra, Virginia: Time-Life Books, 1982), p. 149.

  [56]Both Bingham Arzumanian and Curtis Melchor's pieces have offered valuable insight into the nature of Tom's alignment with Karen. Also see Chapter XI.

  LinkHolloway's assertion that the camera is impotent within the house "helps establish him—at least for a little while—as the tribe's head."

  [58]No idea. Actually, Lude had a German friend named Kyrie, a tall blonde haired beauty who spoke Chinese, Japanese and French, drank beer by the quart, trained for triathlons when she wasn't playing competitive squash, made six figures a year as a corporate consultant and loved to fuck. Lude took heed when I told him I needed a German translation and introduced us.

  As it turned out, I'd met her before, about five or so months ago. It had actually been a little tricky. I was leering about, pretty obliterated in the arms of drink, hours of drink actually, feeling like days of drink, when this monstrous guy loomed up in front of me, grumbling insensibly about bad behavior, something concerning too much talk with too much gesture, gestures towards her, that much of the grumble, the "her" bit, I understood. He meant Kyrie of course who even back then was a blonde haired beauty, writing my name in Japanese and assigning all sorts of portentous things to it, things I was hoping to lead or was it follow? elsewhere, when this prehistoric shithead, reeking of money and ignorance, interposed himself, cursing, spitting and threatening, in fact so loud mean Kyrie had to interpose herself, which only made matters worse. He reached over her and hit me in the forehead with the heel of his hand. Not hard, more like a shove, but a strong enough shove to push me back a few feet.

  "Well look at that," I remember hollering. "He has an opposable thumb."

  The monster wasn't amused. It didn't matter. The alcohol in me had already quickened and fled. I stood there tingling all over, a dangerous clarity returning to me, ancient bloodlines colluding under what I imagine now must of been the very aegis of Mars, my fingers itching to weld into themselves, while directly beneath my sternum a hammer struck the timeless bell of war, a call to arms, though all of it still held back by what? words I guess, or rather a voice, though whose I have no clue.

  He was twice my size, bigger and stronger. That should of mattered. For some reason it didn't. Odds were he'd rip me to pieces, probably even try to stomp me, and yet part of me still wanted to find out for sure. Luckily, the alcohol returned. I got wobbly and then I got scared.
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  Lude was yelling at me.

  "You got a death wish Truant?"

  Which was the thing that scared me.

  'Cause maybe I did.